


In her hands she held Oblivion

by FrozenFT



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 02:40:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6935536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenFT/pseuds/FrozenFT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monster!Carm AU (based loosely off of Adamantred's art, go check their tumblr out). Carmilla drunk Lophii blood, Laura's a vampire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In her hands she held Oblivion

2 days ago

Carmilla was thinking. Specifically, thinking about Ell. This usually didn’t end well, and as such she made a general rule of avoiding it, but staring into the pool of thick, dark blood she had cupped in her hands, she couldn’t help it. She didn’t know what she had been expecting - for Ell and the other victims to show up and thank her? To tell her not to do it? For Laura to stop her? Not that it mattered now - in this, she was alone. Around her lay the fallen. Villagers, Zetas, warriors and farmers, guilty and innocent - all joined in death. And in front of her, still and rotting, was Lophii. Its blood ran warm in a river down to where she stood, silent and worn down to the bone. And in her hands she held oblivion.

It was hardly an unfamiliar experience. What seemed like a lifetime ago, she had been faced with the same choice and for Laura, she had chosen death. But the choice she made now, she had to make for herself. In her hands she held an end to expectations, to the desires of others and the pain of love. In her hands she held vengeance for her sister, justice for Vordenberg, the path to a world where all that was wrong could be put right. But in her hands she held oblivion - an end to everything she loved, to everything that was her - to Carmilla, to Mircalla, to all the other lives she had lived. In other words - hardly a choice at all.

And then everything was red.

\----

1 day ago

LaFontaine’s blood ran as cold as the harsh cuffs that held them and Perry prisoner, locked to a metal fence post in the middle of one of Silas’s many games fields. Behind them were the remnants of Vordenberg’s army, a bloody mess of villagers, Zetas, defective Summers, and whoever else he could rally behind him. In front of them, Vordenberg himself stood, a dull short sword in one hand and the Silas Charter in the other. 

The shadows of the night flickered, and then there was a woman striding down the field, eyes burning blue underneath the skull that sat on her head. Blackened horns rose, twisting, from the skull’s eye sockets, through the unkempt mess of black hair. LaFontaine blinked slowly, confused. Was that - 

“Mircalla,” hissed Vordenberg “You have lost. I have the charter. I have your friends. Surrender.”

Carmilla cocked her head, and chuckled, continuing to walk towards him. As he pointed the sword at Perry, they heard her curse under her breath.

“She wasn’t supposed to succeed”

\----

2 days ago

Everything was red. Red blood in red hair, running down red clothes, to flow, pool, congeal at her knees. All there was was silence, an unnatural contrast to the violent scene in front of her. Summer after Summer lay dead, brutally torn apart by the few remaining Zeta’s, who themselves had collapsed, either from the exhaustion or their wounds. Kirsch, a hole punched through his chest, kneeling, dying, in front of her. And then Danny, the fire in her eyes finally burnt out, the light that drove her gone.

Then came the cold. Biting, numbing, the chill of metal on flesh - the muscles in her back tensed around the alien spike jutting down into her before finally giving up. She was vaguely aware of Theo entering her field of vision, the Silas Charter in his bloodied hands. Through the blur of tears and pain she heard him speak of what could have been, of a campus belonging to the Zeta’s, of Vordenberg victorious - and then of revenge, of justice, of death. Of Carmilla, or whatever was left of her.

But she didn’t care anymore. As she knelt there, dying, she almost wanted to laugh - she had spent her entire life caring, looking after people, trying to protect people, to do what’s right. But in her final moments, she had finally worked out to stop. 

Carmilla would have been proud, she thought. And then she didn’t.

\----

Now

“We can’t just do nothing! She’s got a skull on her face for heaven’s sake! She has horns!”

“So what, you want to wake up the possibly murderous god powered vampire? Say hi? Ask how she’s doing?”

“No, I just - she’s our friend, even with all that, whatever it is, going through her system, she still saved me! And what about Laura?”

“What about Laura? She’s dead Per, there’s nothing we can do except get out of the room with Lophii The Second here and not add to the ranks of our dead friends!”

Perry paced frantically, frustrated with how...sensible LaFontaine was being. Danny, Kirsch, Laura, everyone they cared about was dead, they should be as much of a mess as she was, but instead they just stood there and told her she had to leave behind her hope and she couldn't, she couldn't just do that, she’d been trapped inside her head for months and now she was out and everything was wrong and - 

“I can’t Laf! What if, what if Carmilla can bring Laura back? The Dean used Lophii’s power to do that, why couldn’t she? Laf I know it’s dangerous but I can’t just -”

And then suddenly they were holding her close, tight, silent tears running down from their face, down the toughened features she knew so well, down to pool on her shoulders as they trembled with the fear and loss and stress of it all.

“I know Perr, from every time this argument has been the other way around, I know, but right now the only thing I’m sure of is that I can’t lose you. Laura, Carmilla, Danny, they’re already gone, but I still have you and I can’t - I, I can’t -” their voice cracked, sending uncontrollable tremors down their body, and then they broke down completely, whatever semblance of control they had had leaving them.

A sharp crack and a gasp echoed outwards from the other side of the hall where the confrontation had taken place, and they both spun around to see Carmilla kneeling over Laura’s body, two fingers to her neck and a hand on her heart. Her voice, a weak shadow of her usual confidence, yet still ringing with that familiar sarcasm, followed.

“Well, it’s nice to know that after saving your lives however many times, at least one of you numbskulls trust me.”

\----

1 day ago

Vordenberg and his army hadn’t stood a chance. Blood and guts were strewn across the grass, and Carmilla hadn’t even moved. The entire time, she had just stood there, head tilted, a smirk on her face, and her eyes locked with Perry’s.

“Mother.” The words were spoken in a harsh, guttural growl, monstrous, yet with a hint of amusement.

“I'll concede, this I didn't plan for. You are obviously far more powerful than I predicted.” 

Their head spun round. What was Perry saying? Why was she acting like this? Confusion turned to panic as their brain desperately tried to process everything but all that they could tell was that this was really, really bad. 

For a second, everything was still, both women tense and ready. Then in what seemed like little more than a fraction of a second, Perry was up, her hands pointed at Carmilla, waves of energy emanating from them, rolling through the air and crashing brutally into Carmilla, sending her staggering back, shocked. 

LaFontaine looked down to see that their hands were free, and they got up and bolted. Whatever was happening, whatever had control of Perry, they couldn't do anything without the help of Laura and the others. Behind them, Carmilla twisted, changed, and then there was a horned black panther sprinting away from the fight.

\----

Now

Blurs flitted back and forth above, shapes and shadows jumbled into an incoherent collage in front of her eyes. Slowly, the muffled noises around her started to come into clarity, sounds and words that made some sort of sense.

“Weren’t you supposed to turn into some sort of uncontrollable god monster though? How come you’re still…you?” The first voice was excited, inquisitive, the lingering traces of sorrow barely detectable.

“I don’t know, but if you don’t stop asking stupid questions I might stop being me and lose control.” The second voice was harsh, almost growling, and familiar. Some of the shapes above her started to condense into long, black locks, and ivory-white horns. 

“Carm…” Her voice was barely a whisper, her entire body felt drained and empty. The figure that was…standing over her? No, carrying her, started before running a rough hand through her hair, thick with dried blood.

“Hush, cupcake, go back to sleep now, you’re going to be okay.” 

Her eyes drifting closed, the last words that made their way through to her numbed brain went without comprehension past Laura’s mind.

“She needs blood, now.”

\----

This morning

She had been slipping for months. It started as blackouts, outbursts of anger, and she had naively assumed that it was just stress. As if anything that normal happened in her life these days. From there, it progressed, The Dean’s grip on her mind growing stronger and stronger, and by the time she realised what was happening she no longer had the self control to tell anyone.

“Ah, dearest, how kind of you to show up,” spoke The Dean with Perry’s voice, as Perry herself sat caged into her own mind. She was vaguely aware of Carmilla’s presence in the room, like staring out at the world through a small hole in a very cramped box. The Dean continued to make a variety of condescending comments, from threats to insults, while Carmilla just stood there. Whether it was blood lust, sheer animal rage, desire for power, or just the last flickering of remnants of her original wishes that sat behind those burning eyes, it didn’t matter anymore. Carmilla was going to kill The Dean, and so her too, or The Dean would kill Carmilla, and she would remain trapped for the long years till she dwindled out of existence.

She had neither eyes nor body to call her own, but if she did, she would have curled up and cried and cried till everything was faded and gone and maybe, just maybe, wherever she went to next, they would be there.

LaFontaine.

The gates of the hall flew open.

\----

Now

Books, stretching away into the distance, curving and distorting more and more as they went. They would normally have taken the opportunity to explore this place, to make some attempt at mapping this Escher-esque web of a library whilst it was still being unusually helpful. Instead, they were sitting here, staring blankly into the next room, the weight of everything that had happened over the past couple of days dragging their shoulders down.

Past the rotting oak door, in a small room plastered with damp, peeling off-yellow wallpaper, Perry kneeled over Laura, tending to the plethora of scratches and bruises that coated her skin. They watched Perry’s hair sway, flick, each glowing curl somehow still perfectly in sync despite the mess that they were all in. Carmilla stood in the corner, silent, and perfectly still, her arms crossed as she leaned against the wall. For all they knew, she could be asleep, or staring at them, or at Laura - they couldn't see a thing behind the skull that seemed to be a permanent fixture now.

Their hands were clenched tight around their legs, the dirty, worn, fabric of their jeans bunching up as they sat there curled up against the wall. And, in silence, they cried.

\----

This morning

Carmilla’s hand was around her (the Dean’s?) throat. At the sight of Laura’s body, limp and devoid of life, whatever beast she had become had gone wild, tearing through every barrier and warding between them. Numb within her cage, Perry watched as the world dimmed before her, the life draining from her stolen body. In the background, she could vaguely hear LaFontaine screaming, begging, crying. 

And then they had mentioned Laura, and something, some spark of what Carmilla had once been, returned.

The world went white, and there was silence.

\----

Now

She could feel it, clawing desperately inside of her head, the fear and the hatred and the madness. These remnants, the dregs of Lophii’s insanity, that wished for only power and death. The monster. 

Yet dregs though they were, they were the dregs of an ancient god, and one who had spent millennia controlling minds. At their worst they were in control, but here, alone, with her hand on Laura’s, they felt like a mere echo of that. It helped that she had burnt most of the power on destroying her mother, and bringing back Laura. No human body could hold that much power, so most had been merely raw magic, hers to command, but gone once it was used. And the monster, it came with Lophii’s magic. Looking back, it had always been there. It was the voice calling for blood, desperate for blood, every day since she had died.

The remnants of the power, that which her vessel had been able to maintain, were still vastly more than anything she had previously had access to. And as such, the monster pounded that much harder against the walls of her mind, hungry and insane. Yet around Laura, it didn’t really seem to matter what it wanted. All that mattered was keeping her safe, happy, alive at the very least - seeing her dead had stripped away everything, thought and feeling and desire till there was only fury left. Every bad memory of her, every disagreement and grudge, dwindled to nothing in the face of that tragedy. 

Brown curls framed her face, still smooth and unmarked despite what she had been through. Her body was a different matter - her arms and shoulders were covered in various sizes of scratches and cuts from where she had tried to fight off the tide of brutes that had eventually taken her life, and a little above her navel was the biggest scar of all. Distorted and ugly, it marked where the blade had exited her body, having plunged straight through her. There were still thin trails of dried blood around her mouth, from where she had started coughing it up. From there, Carmilla’s eyes trailed up further, to meet - 

Warm hazel eyes. Despite everything, they were still so full of life.

Laura was awake.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear, there's less blood and guts in the rest of it, and less angst (slightly).


End file.
